The Moon's Shadow (3 page)

“I’m just contacting the dining hall,” Mik said. “That’s all.”

Eldrin wished he could fold his arms across his chest for protection against the cold. It didn’t matter that the air was warm; the chill came from inside him. He fought down his nausea.

When Eldrin said nothing, Mik went to work on the console again, but slowly, letting Eldrin see his every move. The boy appeared to do what he claimed, ordering food, but Eldrin had no doubt the ever-so-trusty Mik also notified his superiors that their prisoner had arrived. Their security would be monitoring this room.

Mik turned to Eldrin, then hesitated, seeming uncertain. He motioned at a sofa across the room. “Would you like to sit?”

Gods, yes.
But Eldrin stayed put.

“Sir?” Mik gestured, offering the couch.

Eldrin wanted to refuse, but he knew they would play this game however they wished regardless of what he chose. He walked to the couch, more in defiance of his fear than in acceptance of Mik’s invitation. He expected an attack from behind, but he reached the sofa unharmed. He sat on one end, lowering his body with care, ready to jump up if he had to defend himself.

Eldrin wondered when Corbal would arrive. The Xir lord often joined him for dinner, lavishing feasts on his exotic new provider. He treated Eldrin well, but as if Eldrin were a treasured art object rather than a human being. Except a collector wouldn’t touch a work of art for fear of causing damage. Corbal had no such compunctions.

Eldrin shut away that thought. Safer to wonder who owned Mik. Although the youth wore no restraints, he had to have an Aristo owner. Of all the billions of Eubians spread across the Eubian empire, none was free except those in the three Aristo castes—Hightons, Diamonds, and Silicates—and they numbered no more than a few thousand. Most Eubian slaves were taskmakers and lived comfortable lives, some even rising to a certain amount of authority and wealth. Over a trillion taskmakers existed; with so many owned by so few Aristos, they had to have enough autonomy to run their own lives and maintain the riches and power of their owners.

Providers were different. As psions, they were rare almost to extinction and difficult to create in genetics labs. As a result, only a few thousand existed, most of them conceived naturally. Eldrin grimaced. He didn’t want his “elite” standing. Providers had no status, no possessions, and no autonomy.

He thought of the Aristo who had switched places with him in the plaza. The exchange baffled Eldrin. Apparently they expected him to believe they had traded him to the Allieds for some Highton youth. Did Corbal really think he was that stupid? No trade in the universe was worth giving up Eldrin Valdoria, their captive Skolian prince. The Traders knew it. The Allieds knew it. Eldrin knew it. Even if Corbal had agreed to such a trade for some bizarre reason, the Allieds wouldn’t have sent two teenage boys to do it. What did Corbal hope to achieve with this charade? It was almost strange enough to believe it was real.

No.
He couldn’t weaken. They wanted him to believe, but he wouldn’t be fooled. He couldn’t bear the pain of having his hope crushed.

Eldrin drew his feet up on the couch, pulling his knees to his chest, his limbs shaking from his inner chill, a coldness that had begun the night of his capture. He wasn’t sure how long he had been a prisoner—a month, maybe even two.

A rustle drew his attention. Mik was standing in front of him, holding a thermal quilt. Eldrin thought the boy had spoken, but he wasn’t sure.

“What?” Eldrin asked hoarsely.

Mik offered the quilt. “You were shivering.”

“Cold.”

Mik tucked the blanket around him. Unexpected warmth spread over Eldrin like a benediction.

“Do you mind if I ask your name?” Mik asked.

“Who is he?” Eldrin whispered.

“He?”

The Aristo in the exchange,
Eldrin wanted to say. But he didn’t speak. His throat hurt too much.

Mik pushed his hand through his hair. “Can you tell me about yourself? I need to notify my superiors.”

“You already did.” Eldrin could barely manage the words.

“They do know you’re here,” Mik admitted. “But no one will approach you without your permission.”

Eldrin shook his head. He knew he should stay alert, but he was so tired…

So tired…

Voices made Eldrin stir. Had he slept? He was lying with his head on the armrest, his body pulled into a ball, his hands clenching the quilt in front of his body.

Across the room, Mik stood talking to a woman with white hair and a dark-haired man. Two guards were posted where the hallway met the living room. Sweat broke out on Eldrin’s forehead. These newcomers wore civilian clothes, but he knew military officers when he saw them.

Mik was speaking in a low voice. He seemed flustered now, confused, worried. “I assumed Jay was carrying out orders. It never occurred to me he would arrange a trade on his own, without telling anyone.”

“You’re sure the trade was consensual?” the woman asked.

The dark-haired man spoke. “We’ve contacted the Eubian Embassy. They don’t say much, but it’s clear Jay isn’t coming back.”

“You lied,” Eldrin whispered.

No one in Mik’s group heard, but one of the guards by the hall glanced at Eldrin. Then the man turned to Mik’s group. “Major Armstead, I think our guest is awake.”

As they all turned to look, Eldrin sat up, slow and stiff, pulling the quilt around himself, though his shirt offered plenty of warmth. Then it hit him: his arms were free. Mik had said no one would touch him without his consent, yet someone had removed the restraints. They had also treated his injuries; his lacerations no longer bled, and his welts had faded. For all that Mik’s claim had been false, Eldrin was grateful they had eased his discomfort.

Grateful?
His anger sparked. They extorted his emotions so easily, offering freedom from the pain if he would just talk. But he could tell them nothing. Even if the agony became unbearable and he screamed with the effort to speak, he could reveal nothing they would find useful. The Skolian military had put traps in his brain. If he weakened, those traps would disrupt his neural connections, erasing memories. Even knowing it was necessary, he hated that he would forget his family, his wife, his son…

“Sir?”

Eldrin focused outward. Mik was sitting on the table in front of the couch. A hearty aroma tickled Eldrin’s nose; behind Mik, a tray waited with a steaming bowl of soup. Eldrin’s mouth watered.

“Would you like to eat?” Mik asked.

Eldrin nodded, letting the quilt fall to his waist. He wanted to clench it around himself like a shield, but he refused to let his fear show. He regarded Mik with cool reserve.

The youth offered the tray. Eldrin balanced it on his lap, aware of everyone watching him. Then he ate. The soup warmed his throat, a balm to his ravaged vocal cords. His hope flared. Perhaps someday he could sing again. He might never regain his full voice, but he would have his music.

Sing for whom? Corbal? He would die first.

After he finished the soup, he drank the wine, grateful for its numbing effect. Then he slid the tray back on the table.

The two people with Mik had, surprisingly, stayed across the room. A realization came to Eldrin: the guard had called the woman “Major Armstead.” Only an Aristo, or a taskmaker with significant Aristo heritage, could become such a highly ranked military officer. This major, however, had blue eyes with no hint of red, and her face showed no sign of Aristo blood.

He steeled himself against hope. They had done this to him before, when they claimed they had his son and would let Eldrin see him. He had rejoiced to know his son lived—until they revealed it was a lie. He had died inside then. He couldn’t let them do that to him again. Never again.

Mik was waiting. When Eldrin focused on him, the youth said, “Colonel Yamada would like to speak with you.”

“Who is Colonel Yamada?” Although Eldrin’s voice was ragged, it didn’t hurt as much now.

Mik indicated the officer next to Major Armstead, a man with dark eyes, a smooth, golden complexion, and an aura of authority. He didn’t resemble an Aristo, and his mind lacked the hard edge of an ESComm officer. In fact, Eldrin sensed no deception in any of these people. He shook his head. This couldn’t be true. The Eubians would never trade him, not even for another Highton.

After a moment, Mik said, “Would you prefer if we came back later?”

“What does Colonel Yamada want with me?” Eldrin asked.

“Your name, for a start.” Mik sounded friendly.

Eldrin just looked at him. And then? Information about his family? Not only was Eldrin the consort of the Ruby Pharaoh, he was also, through his mother, in line for the Ruby Throne itself.

Mik tried again. “Can we do anything for you?”

The question confused Eldrin. They never asked what he wanted. It had to be a trick. He could call their bluff. “I would like to sleep.”

Mik indicated a door in the hallway. “The bedroom is in there. If you need anything, you can use the console.”

Eldrin inclined his head, his gesture contained and guarded. “All right.”

Unexpectedly, everyone left, true to Mik’s word. After a moment, Eldrin went to the door in the hallway. It opened onto a comfortable room with a holobook rack on one wall and a bed with a blue quilt against another. Puzzled, Eldrin went back out to the foyer and tried the front door. To his surprise, it opened. The two guards were outside, and one nodded to him. It was too strange. At a loss, Eldrin stepped outside and waited. Incredibly, neither guard objected. He walked down the hall and they came with him; when he stopped, so did they.

“Can we escort you anywhere?” one asked.

Their behavior bewildered him, so much that he couldn’t answer. The Traders had never let him leave his room. In truth, he had little wish to go anywhere; what he really wanted was the sleep his tormentors had denied him for days.

Probing their behavior now, Eldrin returned to his suite. The guards came, too, and took up their posts outside. Finally convinced they intended nothing dire, he went back into the suite to the bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed.

Eldrin’s last thoughts, as he fell asleep, were of Dehya, her dark hair flowing. Dehya. Dyhianna Selei. The Ruby Pharaoh.

His wife.

They had told him she died.

C
orbal Xir poured the wine. It flowed into the crystal goblets, sparkling like rubies.

He offered Jai a drink. “It is from my vineyards, Your Highness.” He said the title easily, as if he had addressed Jai that way for years.

At a loss, Jai took the goblet. His inclination was to thank Corbal, but he had no idea how an Aristo would respond. So he said nothing. He had been in the embassy for only a few minutes and already he felt as if he were treading water in an ocean where he could all too easily drown.

The room disoriented him. It was circular rather than square. Plush red upholstery covered its walls, and gold shone everywhere, from the moldings that bordered the ceiling to the onion-shaped arches above the doorways. Crystal sparkled on the chandelier, and the black lacquered tables gleamed. It all made him feel suffocated.

He and Corbal were nominally alone; their guards had stayed outside. But Corbal surely had security watching the room. Jai was clenching the stem of his goblet so hard, his hand ached. He felt so far out of his league, he had no idea where to begin.

Corbal raised his drink, his smile as smooth as glass. “To your health.”

Jai just nodded, afraid to drink. Corbal took a long swallow, then lowered his goblet. He glanced at Jai’s glass with concern. “Does the wine not please you?”

“Yes, certainly.” Jai waited longer, but Corbal showed no distress. Relieved, Jai lifted his own goblet.

Corbal caught the glass just before the wine touched Jai’s lips. Without a word, he pulled away the goblet.

Jai stiffened. “What are you doing?”

Disappointment showed on the older man’s face, though whether it was real or planned, Jai couldn’t tell.

“Come,” Corbal said.

He took Jai to an antique stand by the wall. A gold cage hung from a hook at its top, and inside a bird fluffed red feathers. Corbal opened the cage and set Jai’s goblet inside.

The bird chirped. It dipped its translucent beak into the goblet, sipping the wine, and gave an appreciative trill. Just as Jai smiled, the bird went silent. Swaying on the perch, it tilted its head. With a harsh cry, it toppled off the perch and hit the bottom of the cage with a thud.

Jai stared at the bird, then at the wine in his goblet next to it. Without a word, he reached into the cage and picked up the bird. It lay inert in his palm. Dead.

“Gods,” Jai whispered.

Corbal took Jai’s glass and went to a pearly oval set into the wall, what Jai had thought was part of the decor. When Corbal opened the panel, Jai realized it was a disposal unit. Corbal dropped in the goblet, and the hum of its disintegration filled the room.

Jai felt ill. “You poisoned the wine.”

Corbal slowly turned, his face and manner cool. “It’s possible. Or perhaps I put poison in your glass or an antidote in mine. Maybe I have internal systems that neutralize unwanted chemicals. Or the bird might be sensitive in ways we aren’t.” He leaned against a darkwood desk that reflected the chandelier in its polished surface. Then he took a long swallow of his own wine.

Jai set the bird in the cage. His heart was racing, but he made himself speak without losing his cool. “You won’t kill me.”

“No?” Corbal smiled pleasantly. “And why is that?”

“You gave away Prince Eldrin. The greatest prize Eube ever attained, and you let him go.” Somehow he kept his fear out of his voice. “No trade in the universe is worth that crime—except one. The Emperor of Eube.” He prayed he was right. “Fail to produce me, and the other Hightons will obliterate you.”

Xir sighed. “You are so painfully innocent.”

Jai gave a short laugh, hoping Corbal couldn’t see the fear it hid. “So I turn to the wisdom of my mentor, the mighty Lord Xir? I don’t think so, Uncle.”

“Actually, we are cousins.” Corbal paused much the way Jai’s mother had often done when she accessed her internal computer. “Your first cousin, twice removed. I was your grandfather’s first cousin.”

Like a sharp pain, Jai suddenly longed for the family he would never see again. He could never admit that the girl and two boys who had been foster children with him on Earth were actually his younger sister and brothers. He had no friends here, no one he could trust, nowhere he could turn. He fought the foolish, lonely part of him that wanted Corbal to fill the gap left by the loss of his family, friends, and the life he had known.

Xir finished his wine. Then he smiled, his face as cold as his ruby gaze. “Welcome to Eube, Your Highness.”

Jai swallowed. The words sounded like a curse.

Lady Tarquine Iquar, the Finance Minister of Eube, appreciated the hospitality offered to her and the other bidders invited to the auction. Admiral Taratus, the seller, had provided a sumptuous dinner for the bidders. The dining chamber had the octagonal shape he seemed to favor, with gold walls and a domed ceiling tiled by platinum mosaics. An air-bed stood discreetly in one corner.

Three other Hightons sat at the low dinner table with Tarquine. They reclined in loungers, two other women and a man in the uniform of an ESComm general. Tarquine sipped wine from her goblet. As the Highton Minister of Finance, she advised the emperor on the economy. Although she kept her appearance at a healthy and vibrant forty years old, she had lived 104 years.

The chamber contained one other person, the provider on auction. At the moment, he was sitting on the floor by another of the Highton women. Tarquine studied the man. He was an unparalleled item, no doubt. Tall and well built, with long legs, a muscular physique, and an athletic grace, he compelled attention. The age lines around his eyes and the maturity of his features added to his allure; this was no untried youth or body-sculpted mannequin.

But this provider had more to him than his beauty. Although his hair and eyes appeared light brown, Tarquine knew otherwise. He had bought some cheap genetic tattoo job that changed his coloring; reverse the tattoo, and he would shimmer gold, his hair, his skin, even his eyes.

Yes, she knew. Only she had recognized him. He was supposedly a Skolian psion Admiral Taratus had captured, but that barely touched the truth. Tarquine believed him to be Kelricson Valdoria Skolia, a Ruby prince killed in battle eighteen years ago. He looked remarkably fetching for a dead man. Here he was, a long lost heir of Imperial Skolia, kidnapped by pirates barely two months after the end of the war and put up for auction.

Fascinating.

Tarquine took a sip of wine, listening as the others questioned Kelric. He answered in one-word sentences, with no attempt to hide how much he hated the auction. His resistance attracted her.

It didn’t surprise Tarquine that no one else recognized Kelric. He had been in the news only briefly, thirty-five years ago, when he had wed a Skolian noblewoman, and then again when she had died two years later. But Tarquine had never forgotten the gold prince of those newscasts, because she had so greatly coveted him. He looked different now, older, experienced, his physique more heavily muscled than the leggy young man from over three decades ago. When Taratus had sent holos of the provider he had to auction, she hadn’t been certain it was Kelric. But now, seeing him in person, she had no doubt.

Of course she wouldn’t reveal his identity. If ESComm learned that Eube had another Ruby prince, they would take him for interrogation. She couldn’t allow that—because no matter how much it cost, she intended to own Kelric Valdoria.

Corbal Xir wasted no time taking Jai to the capital planet of Eube. They arrived only a few days after they met on Delos. Jai’s great-great-grandfather, Eube Qox, had named this world Eube’s Glory. Eube had redesigned its solar system to please himself: he terraformed Glory to fit his taste, destroyed several planets he didn’t like, and removed an asteroid belt that annoyed him. It gave Jai a window into his progenitor’s mind, offering whole new insights into the word “megalomania.”

Over a century and a half ago, Eube had comissioned the construction of a mansion for his sister Ilina on her marriage to a Lord Xir. Corbal was Ilina’s son. Jai found it hard to absorb that his cousin had been born 132 years ago. It made Jai acutely aware he was only seventeen, terminally young and inexperienced.

Corbal had brought him here to the Xir mansion after their arrival on Glory. It relieved Jai; he didn’t want to see the Qox palace yet. His palace. His mother’s forces had left it in ruins. She had come for his father, but both of them had died trying to escape. Jai wasn’t ready to face so many reminders of what he had lost.

He went out onto a balcony and rested his hands on the rail, a bar of platinum engraved with abstract tessellations. This rail alone was worth more than everything his family had owned in their exile. He would have traded a thousand such bars to have back that simple life.

A spectacular landscape spread out below this high mountainside that served as home for the Xir mansion. In the distance, across a valley, the Jaizire Mountains sheered into the sky, shrouded in mist. Primordial forest tangled on their slopes and carpeted the lowlands. Jai inhaled the cold, thin air, adjusting to its strange scent.

“A striking view,” a voice said.

Startled, Jai looked around. Corbal had joined him, elegant and imposing in his dark clothes.

“Indeed,” Jai said. Corbal often used the word, though it meant nothing as far as Jai could tell. Right now, it was conveniently vague.

His cousin motioned at the valley. “This is my land. You own the Jaizire Mountains and everything beyond them.”

Jai stared at him. He
owned
that landscape? Surely he had misheard.

“You will need to visit the palace now and then,” Corbal continued as if his new sentence was a perfectly logical continuation of the last. “Make appearances to your staff.”

Corbal’s conversation disoriented Jai; his cousin talked in circles, twists, and turns. Nor could he sense Corbal’s mind that well. Aristos didn’t project their emotions as strongly as psions, and Jai had fortified his mental barriers so much that he had trouble now picking up more than bits and pieces from anyone.

He spoke with caution. “I will need more than brief appearances to do my job.”

“Perhaps.”

Jai waited, hoping for clarification, but Corbal said no more. Jai had wearied of trying to untangle Corbal’s speech. So he looked out at his mountains.

“You haven’t asked about your providers,” Corbal said.

Jai felt as if Corbal had kicked him in the gut. “I have no providers.” The idea made him sick.

“Of course you do. You inherited everything your father owned, billions of taskmakers and dozens of providers.”

Jai swung around to him, staring.
Billions?
He couldn’t imagine it. Nor would he ever believe his father had kept providers. It was impossible.

Corbal was studying his face. “You own several hundred worlds, including everything and everyone on them.”

The idea revolted Jai. Knowing any remark he made would come out inadvisably hostile, he said nothing.

“Perhaps you would like a provider this evening?” Corbal asked pleasantly. “I would be happy to offer you your choice of mine.”

Jai was aghast, or so he told himself. Appalled. Ah, hell. Corbal had just offered him his pick of among the most desirable pleasure slaves in an empire. It would take a saint not to respond, and Jai was no saint.

His cousin smiled. “Take any girl. As many as you like, as often as you like, for as long as you like.”

Jai’s face was burning. “That’s, uh, generous of you.”

Corbal indicated the glass doors leading into the living room. “Come. Look at my stock. See if any pleases you.”

Stock?
The word hit Jai like ice water. His anticipation turned to disgust. “Maybe later.” His body had other ideas, but he pushed away the thought, angry at himself. If Corbal thought he could control his young cousin with pleasure girls, he was mistaken. It was hard to stop thinking about them, though.

Corbal laughed. “Saints, but you’re young.”

Was he that easy to read? “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

His cousin leaned against the rail. “You lived in seclusion all your life, with your mother, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“Your Aristo mother.”

“Yes.” Jai’s pulse jumped at the lie.

“And there?”

“Pardon me?”

“Always, Your Highness.”

Gods. Conversing with Corbal was maddening. “What did you mean, ‘And there’?”

“Where did you live?”

Sweat broke out on Jai’s forehead. “I don’t know.”

“Interesting,” Corbal murmured, “that you lived there but didn’t know where it was.”

“Only my mother needed to know the planet’s location.”

Corbal studied his fingernails. “Odd that we have no record of this woman.”

Jai restrained himself from wiping his sweating palms on his shirt. “My father wanted to protect me from assassins. So he hid both my mother and me and told no one about us. Even I didn’t know all the details.”

Corbal exhaled. “The hell of it is, that makes sense.”

Personally Jai thought it made his father sound like a paranoid lunatic. But maybe Aristos found such behavior logical.

“Of course,” Corbal added, “it makes just as much sense that you are an impostor.”

“You’ve analyzed my DNA.” Jai had no doubt Corbal was having that analysis verified. His cousin could have easily stolen a sample of Jai’s tissues during the past few days. Jai wasn’t worried. His genes offered the necessary proof. Before contacting Corbal, he had also bought an expensive genetic tattoo that made him appear more Highton.

Corbal waved his hand. “Oh, I’ve no doubt you’re the son of Jaibriol the Second. But you have no proof he married your mother.”

Jai scowled. “My birth is legitimate.”

“Can you prove it?”

He could, in fact; their marriage was recorded on Earth. But he doubted it would do him any good to prove his father had married the Skolian Imperator. So he summoned up the most arrogant bearing he could manage. “I find your implication offensive.”

Corbal looked amused. “That may be. But nevertheless, you have no proof of your legitimacy.”